


Like Hell or Up Above

by The_Unnatural_Disaster (havent_got_a_clue)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Control Issues, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Hate Sex, Het, Obsession, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Rare Pairings, Ulterior Motives, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havent_got_a_clue/pseuds/The_Unnatural_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I’m not weak.” </i>She growls out the words but the knife stays steady.</p><p>“I know you aren’t. You’re worse. You’re <i>predictable</i>.”</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Hell or Up Above

“So, you’ve come to kill me, then.”  
  
It’s not a question. There’s no other reason for her to be here. Peter doesn’t move, doesn’t make an effort to sit up from his bed, doesn’t even look at her as she silently rounds the corner into his room.  
  
He could smell her coming from miles away, it seemed. He wants her to know that. He also wants her to know that she isn’t the threat she thinks she is.  
  
She doesn’t respond, but, then again, he doesn’t expect her to. She doesn’t feel the need to punctuate every fight with witty banter like everyone else in Beacon Hills. It’s old school and he can almost respect that.  
  
But the silence does give so much away.  
  
Her heart is loud in his ears. There’s fear and uncertainty and a steady thrum of....  
  
Peter grins.  
  
...Excitement.  
  
This should be fun.  
  
He still doesn’t move, doesn’t look to her. She knows exactly what he can do to her, she’s seen it firsthand so many times before. If she wants to try her luck, it’s her funeral. Hell, with her history, he expected her to try something like this.  
  
What he doesn’t expect, though, when she crosses into the thin sliver of light shining from the window, is to see her dressed up for occasion.  
  
She looks like she’s going to prom instead of an _attempted_ murder--hair perfectly curled, makeup impeccable, wearing a short satin dress. It’s only the large knife she carries in her hand that tells otherwise.  
  
He won’t react to her pathetic attempt to kill him, but he will allow himself to express confusion.  
  
She smirks at his raised eyebrow. “Don’t you like it? Don’t you _remember?_ ” Like she’s _offended._ “ _You_ picked it out, didn’t you? Said it was a better color for my fair skin.”  
  
The dress. It seems so long ago now, following Allison around to get to Scott.  
  
“So you thought you’d, what, show me I was right?” He’s intrigued now. “Thank me for helping you? Show me the final result because I couldn’t see you all dressed up at the dance?”  
  
Allison is at the foot of the bed now and he still hasn’t made a defensive move.  
  
“This? This has _nothing_ to do with you. This, this _thing--”_ she runs her free hand down the fabric, stopping to clutch her stomach. “--this is when I felt _weak. Helpless_. I was _terrified._ I hate myself for ever feeling this way. This isn’t what I am--some weak little girl. Not anymore. No one’s going to make me feel that way again. I was weak with this dress. Twice. After tonight it won’t be a memory of my failures. It will be a memento of my triumph.”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “So this is some revenge to make you feel strong? Revenge for yourself? How selfish, Allison. I expected better from you.”  
  
“You want better reasons? You tried to kill Lydia. You killed my aunt. You made Scott like you. Give me one good reason I should let you live.”  
  
Peter’s eyes sweep up and down Allison’s trembling form. “Because, dear Allison, after everything you just said about our encounter and the way it made you feel, _you still bought the dress._ You may have been terrified. You may have felt vulnerable. _But you liked it_ , didn’t you? That’s why you hate yourself now. All this bravado to make yourself seem so strong. I bet the fear excited you, just like it’s exciting you now.”  
  
Allison scoffs but Peter sees right through it. “You forget, Allison, I’m not Scott. I’m not brand new still trying to figure out what my senses are telling me. I’m not ruled by stupid teenaged hormones, either. You’re quite literally shaking with fear right now, but I can hear your heartbeat, and it’s telling me a better story than the one you’re trying to get me to believe right now.”  
  
Allison’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to kill you.”  
  
Peter stretches out on the bed and clasps his hands behind his head. He’s completely open now, exposed.

  
“Go ahead,” he breathes. “Do it, if that’s what makes you feel strong and vengeful or whatever. I’m honestly surprised it took you this long. I was expecting to be at the wrong end of one of your weapons long before today.”  
  
There are tears in her eyes, mixing with her once perfect makeup as they run down her cheek. She wipes at them with her free hand and takes a step forward, never breaking eye contact with Peter.  
  
Her hand tightens around the knife and she brings it down to his chest, stopping only when the point touches his skin.  
  
Peter doesn't even flinch.  
  
She leans down, inches from his face, the smell of jasmine floating around her. “You think I can’t? You think I won’t?” She barely whispers, but it’s like a scream to his ears.  
  
Peter lifts his head to close even more distance between them. “Oh, you’re perfectly capable of running that knife clean through me.” He arches his back so the point pierces his skin just enough to make it bleed, just to dare her to go in deeper. Because he knows she can’t. He’s betting his life on it.  
  
“ _I’m not weak._ ” She growls out the words but the knife stays steady.  
  
“I know you aren’t. You’re worse. You’re _predictable._ ”  
  
Her eyebrow shoots up at this allegation. Peter starts to speak again, to goad her, manipulate her some more, but before he can open his mouth, Allison smiles like she’s got something over on him and deftly slides a leg across him until she is effectively straddling him. And the knife never moves.  
  
She places her free hand on the knife now, too, giving her more leverage to strike his heart. “I’ll do it. I’ll just push a little harder. I have wolfsbane. Just a little bit--” she pushes infinitesimally. “-- _shoved_ into the wound...I hear it’s a terrible way to die. And you’ve already been through quite a few terrible ways to die, haven’t you? Is that predictable enough for you?”  
  
Peter laughs. “I remember the first way very well. Seems to me that trying to kill me runs in your family, so, yes, any way you think you can kill me is predictable now, Allison. And if you recall, your dearly departed aunt had similar reasons for murdering my entire family and look how well it turned out for her, so if this is really about feeling better about yourself, maybe you should look into other ways to do it. Have you considered talking to someone professional, maybe?”  
  
He’s playing with her now. He briefly fantasizes about turning her, turning the daughter of a hunter. Oh, what delicious fun it would be to spy on that fallout, but her bravery at even attempting this is fascinating. He wants to see how far she’ll go even when she has to know he can fling her across the room with one swipe of his hand if he wants to. Even if she does drum up the courage to make a decent attempt on his life she’ll be crumpled up against a wall before the knife slides between his ribs. He only lets her get this far out of curiosity.  
  
Because the end game isn’t his death even if he can’t figure out any other reason for her to be here.  
  
She shifts on top of him and the satin of her dress slides up her thighs more. He can’t help but look. It’s what he can’t see that sparks a hint of understanding.  
  
“Well then, you’ve got me pinned down, weapon at my chest. Go on. Kill me."    
  
She doesn’t move for a long time. She simply stares him down, like she wants him to call her bluff. And Peter’s getting bored with her lack of follow through.  
  
He moves his hands from behind his head and settles them on her thighs. He can see her struggling not to react, but she squeezes his sides with her knees all the same.  
  
He pushes his hands up so they disappear under the satin fabric and along her hips. “Tell me, Allison, if your intention is to kill me, then why aren’t you wearing anything under that dress?”  
  
Allison’s hands shake, making the knife point scratch at his skin. He hisses and Allison goes wide-eyed.  
  
“Oh, darling, I don’t think you thought this through very well. What would your daddy say?” He’ll admit to himself that Chris Argent worries him on a good day, but if he knew what his daughter were up to right now, he’d be downright terrifying.  
  
She leans forward and it’s only now that he can feel the hint of wetness through his thin cotton pants as the air hits it. He’d groan just from that, but Allison frees up one hand to brace herself close to his ear to whisper, “I’m not ‘daddy’s little girl.’”  
  
She comes away from him finally looking confident, in control. She’s not here to kill him. She’s here to take power from him and turn him upside down and inside out and make him weak.  She’s here to control him.  
  
And it’s working.  
  
“Scott said to leave you alone. That I shouldn’t kill you. He said you’ve become ‘useful.’” She punctuates each sentence by thrusting her hips, grinding into him. He can taste the resentment in the air around her.  
  
He grips her hips harder, forcing her to grind on his still clothed cock. “And you always do what Scott tells you? I thought you and he--I mean, you wouldn’t be here, like _this_ , otherwise, right?” Still goading her, mocking her, even now.  
  
She reaches down under her dress and places her hand on his dick, feeling for herself how hard he is for her now. “I didn’t just toss Scott aside when we broke up. Unlike I’m going to do to you when we’re done here.”  The mocking goes both ways. Fair enough.  
  
What isn’t fair is that there isn’t more of her on display for him to touch. He reaches behind her to unzip her dress and lift it over her head and she allows him. She isn’t wearing a bra, either. She’s completely naked on top of him now.  
  
He wants to pull her down, taste her skin at her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, but that damned knife is back at his chest.  
  
“Allison, if we’re going to do this...you have to put down the knife. Otherwise this isn’t going to work.” As exciting as sex at knifepoint sounds, he _needs_ to touch her.  
  
She shakes her head defiantly as she runs the blade down his side and back up across his stomach, fascinated by it.  
  
“Ask me nicely.” There’s no emotion in her voice. She’s not giving anything away and it’s driving him _crazy._ He could have the knife stuck in the wall across the room and her underneath him before she could get another word out but this is _hers_ to control and as much as she needs this to move on, he craves being the one under control, so he places his hands back on her hips and looks her straight in the eye.  
  
“Please, Allison, put down the knife. I need you to touch me. Please.”  
  
She holds herself still, thinking, debating, but ultimately places the knife next to them where she can reach it again if she needs to.  
  
She stretches out across him, lets him finally taste her like he wanted. He licks the salty skin of her neck, down to her shoulders and he finds his way to her breasts, sucking each nipple, rolling them in his fingers until she cries out softly.  
  
The wet spot she’s making on his pants as she grinds harder into him gets bigger the more he plays with her and he can’t resist reaching down there and feeling just how slick and ready she is.

  
He uses one finger to explore her, explore her reaction to him being there. Her breath hitches when he dips into her folds and grazes her most sensitive spot there. She doesn’t punch him or scramble off; a good sign. He pulls his finger away and delights watching her eyes follow it all the way to his mouth, where he licks the taste of her off.  
  
She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to. The expression on her face is enough approval for him to flip them over so she lays flush on the bed now. He scoots to the edge of the bed, opens her thighs with his hands, and nestles between them. She’s so wet her inner thighs are slick now, too, and he laps at them while he pushes a finger inside her.  
  
She reaches down and grips his hair in her fist, moans out words he doesn’t care to understand. He looks up, hoping to find her finally relaxed a bit, but her dark eyes are still trained on him like he’s going to turn on her at any second. She’s almost daring him to do his best to make her break. He responds to the silent threat by simply pushing in another finger along side the first one and moving from her thighs to her clit, licking, sucking, even nibbling the area, feeling her get wetter and wetter as she starts to tighten around his fingers.  
  
He spares a glance up at her and she’s playing with her breasts now, pinching her nipples between her fingers, flicking them with her thumbs, still watching his every move. Her breaths have become shallow, quick, and her thigh muscles tense up next to his head. She can’t hold out much longer.  
  
She tightens up so much when she finally comes that she pushes Peter’s fingers out of her completely. The noises she makes get him hard again, having lost some of his erection being so focused on here for so long. He needs his cock inside her _now_ if this is even a hint of what she’s like during full-on sex.  
  
It takes her a few minutes to come down fully, to breathe again normally. He fears it may be over, that she got what she came for and she’ll leave him now, frustrated and horny and desperate to come, but just when he’s ready to resign himself to a night of jerking off, she squeezes her thighs around his head and forces him with insane strength to turn over.  
  
Her energy has returned. She is on all fours as she pushes him back down to his original prone position at the head of the bed. She yanks on his pants, taking them down and off him completely.  
  
He’s finally naked. His erection lays across his lower belly and he catches her staring at it and she blushes.  
  
He takes it in his hand, shows it off to her. He wants her to stare at it. He wants her to watch it disappear inside her.  
  
She lowers herself so she is straddling him again, this time the length of his shaft runs the length of her and she slides along it, slicking him up from balls to tip.  
  
“I’m not going to _kiss_ you.”  
  
“I never expected you would.” He reaches up and fondles her breasts some more.  
  
“I’m not going to leave here and dream about you. I’m not going to want you again. This is a one-time only thing. I promised I wouldn’t kill you, that I wouldn’t even hurt you, but if you ask me to do this again after tonight, I will put you down. Do you understand?”  
  
He nods, knowing it’s her bravado talking again. If she feels in control, if she feels powerful controlling him, he’s not going to rule out another unexpected visit from her.  
  
“I hate you. I hate what you’ve done to everyone I love. I hate how weak you made me feel. You don’t have that power anymore. You don’t scare me anymore, Peter. Do you understand _that?_ ”  
  
He nods again. She’s not going to stop until he’s under her spell completely. And he’s too willing to go under it.  
  
“I understand, Allison. I do. But I can’t take much more of this. You’re killing me, I have to have you. Please. Please let me--please _give_ me some relief. I’m begging you. I’m in your hands, you’re in control. I can only ask and hope you grant me release. _Please._ ”  
  
His words seem to satisfy her. She lifts up her hips and guides him to her entrance slowly before lowering herself onto him.  
  
Every centimeter is sweet torture and she’s setting the cruel pace. He tries to buck into her to get inside faster, but she anticipates it and pulls away slightly before resuming her slow descent.  
  
He feels every part of her this way. Every thrust downward is tight and wet and met with a new noise from her.  
  
It takes what feels like a hundred centuries to be buried in her completely and she stays there, unmoving until she feels compelled to start moving.  
  
And, oh, when she does....  
  
Her whole body shudders with every thrust into her. He grabs at her hips, her waist, anything he can hold onto while she rides him. She’s more like an animal than he is right now, he swears she is growling.  
  
She comes once more, squeezing around him, pushing him out yet again with the strength of her orgasm. He’d probably mind if it didn’t mean sinking into her again.  
  
When she struggles in her aftershocks to pick up the pace immediately, he takes over, thrusting up into her, holding her hips steady until he comes, howling and thrashing about.

  
When it’s over, when it’s truly over and Allison has stopped contracting around his dick and Peter stops touching her, she pulls off him and dresses without a word, her hair less coiffed and her makeup a mess now.  
  
He puts his sleep pants back on and sits on the edge of the bed, watching her every move. The last thing she reaches for is the knife.  
  
“I won’t be back. Not like this.”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“Just stay out of my way. Stay away from my family and Lydia. Stay away from me. Or I will kill you, useful or not.”  
  
She flicks her hair behind her shoulders and slams the door behind her.  
  
Weeks pass. She makes good on her promise and doesn’t show up again. He waits for her every night to break, to need him again, but she doesn't come.  
  
And Peter can’t stop thinking about her during every waking moment he can spare and dreaming about her every night.  
  
If control is what she wanted, if controlling something, anything, controlling him and his emotions and his every waking thought is what she wanted, she got it.  If reducing him to this was her endgame, she won. Fair and square.  
  
He’s so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's all take a minute to remember that Allison, for whatever reason, actually bought the dress Peter suggested she buy.


End file.
